


Life of a Raven

by MatildaMcDuck



Category: Shamer Chronicles - Lene Kaaberbol
Genre: Abusive Parents, Backstory, Character Study, Pining, but not the mutual kind, well "parent" really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaMcDuck/pseuds/MatildaMcDuck
Summary: [I want to put a quote here, but the scene I want to quote hasn't been written yet ::sideeyes self::]Nico's life before he met Dina wasn't all that great.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is technically a Shamer Chronicles fic, but it's written to be readable by people who haven't read those books.
> 
> Warning for people who _have_ read them, I changed a bunch of details. Nico's last name doesn't really work in English, for example, and Lizea's canon husband doesn't quite make sense. Also I aged Nico up by about three years because I wanted the brothers to be closer in age.

Nicodemus Ravenna is seven years old the first time he disappoints his father.

It's a nice, sunny day, so all the children of the court are practicing their fencing outside in the courtyard, and even the Duke Ravenna himself has come to watch his sons excel. The air is filled with the “clack!” of heavy practice swords hitting each other, and in the middle of it all, Erasmos Ravenna is dueling a minor Lord's son named Drakan. It's impressive to watch, two twelve-year-olds going rapidly through every trick in the book, moving like they were born with swords in hand. Apparently the stablehand's kid thinks so too, because she's watching intently as Erasmos finally lands a blow at Drakan's chest. As they shake hands, she walks up, her face determined.

“I challenge the winner.” She grabs a practice sword from the hand of the shipmaster's daughter, who's too shocked to protest.

“You?” Erasmos' face twists into a mocking grin. “You're just a stable kid, I bet you live in Skidenstad. I wonder, do they at least have sticks in Skidenstad, or do you have to practice with dead rats?”

The other children have surrounded the two in a close circle, and Nico is craning his neck to see past the older kids. A lot of them laugh at Erasmos' comment, but Nico doesn't think it was very funny.

The girl stands her ground. “I want to fight you. I'm good at it. I can win.”

“I bet you can't even win a fight against my brother, and he's only seven.”

Nico feels everyone's heads turn to look at him. He stammers, trying to make up some excuse, this girl may not have practiced as much as a noble but she's a lot bigger, almost as old as Erasmos — and maybe Erasmos notices that, too, because then he remarks that it wouldn't be fair to have her fight with a weapon she's not used to, and he grabs a thin stick off the ground and swaps it for her borrowed practice sword.

The children regroup around Nico and the girl, and Duke Ebenezer Ravenna watches intently as his youngest son looks hesitantly between the girl and his heavy wooden sword. Nico knows he's looking, knows he'll have to try his very best. So when Erasmos announces that the duel has begun, he swings the sword with all the power he can muster, but the girl quickly steps aside, and now he must raise his sword again for a quick parry, she's so _fast_ , he tries and tries to land a hit but she keeps dodging, how is she so good at this — and then his weapon is flying right at her and she reflexively raises her stick to parry but the stick snaps in half and the sword hits her upper arm and she grimaces from the pain

— and Nico realizes that this isn't fair, he has a weapon and she has no way to defend herself and he doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to cause her pain —

And while he's distracted by that thought, the girl softly swats his chest with what's left of the stick. “I win,” she says, and Nico looks up at the balcony and meets his father's dissatisfied glare.

* * *

A week later, Nico is standing rigidly in an empty training hall, trying to stop his hands from fidgeting, staring at the door. It'll open soon. His father had said that if he couldn't even win against a stable kid, clearly he wasn't learning enough in the regular training, he'd need remedial lessons, luckily there's a world-famous fencer in Dunark right now and she's willing to train a slow child like you.

Nico hopes his new swordmaster won't be too angry when she finds out he's not very good at fighting.

When the door opens and a tall, wiry woman stalks in, barking for her student to lift his weapon, Nico jumps into a basic fighting stance and then holds still as the woman walks over. “You're leaning backwards. Distribute your weight.” Nico moves his torso forward, a little. “Better. Now attack me.” And Nico does so, or he tries to, but every time he swings his wooden sword at her she finds the time to lift hers in return, or she moves lazily aside, and his attack hits only air. “Try harder, kid.” She sounds almost disappointed, already, and Nico puts even more energy into trying to strike this woman, not pioritizing anything else, just swinging and stabbing and trying to _hit her_ —

Her sword hits him in the head, hard, and he yelps out in pain. His sword falls to the floor as he clutches his head with both hands. “Why'd you do that!” he exclaims. “We're not supposed to aim for the head!”

“Maybe _you're_ not, little lordling.” He can almost see a smirk on her lips as she says this. “I know it's not honourable. But you'll be fighting a lot of dishonorable people, and you need to be prepared for that.”

“But why'd do _hit me_ , you could've just told me to, to defend better, or something!” A few angry tears are starting to appear, and he blinks rapidly to clear them, not wanting to seem weak in front of his new teacher.

“Because, little lordling…” She raises her sword again, and as it flashes towards Nico's head, his eyes widen and he jerks out of the way. “Pain is a _great_ teacher.” This time, the smirk is obvious.

* * *

“and, the, witch, made, him, a, po-ti-on…” Nico stops reading, confused.

“Potion. When a word ends in -tion it's usually pronounced like -shen.” Nico's bookmaster Maunus smiles kindly at him.

“made, him, a, potion. To, make, him, in-vi-si-ble. But, she, was, e-vil, and, the, potion, was, rea-lly, potion.”

“Try reading that last word again. You're right it looks a bit like potion, but that's not actually what it says.”

“po-i-son. Poi-son? Poison! It says poison!”

“Well _done_ , Nico.” The bookmaster reaches out to punctuate his words by patting Nico's shoulder. Nico grimaces at the touch, and Maunus looks confused. “Did that hurt? I'm sorry, kid, I didn't mean to hurt you —”

“wasn't your fault,” Nico mumbles, staring at the floor. “Had a bruise already.”

“Must be a pretty bad bruise if just touching it hurt that much. You know, my niece is an apothecary, I think I have some ointment somewhere if you want…”

Nico slowly looks up when he hears Maunus get up, watching quietly as his bookmaster rifles through the piles of paper and vials of alchemy experiments that cover every shelf in the room. “Ah- _ha_! Found it,” Maunus says as he pulls out a small pouch from under a big pile of letters and then returns to the table. Nico looks back at the floor. There's a small hole in the tiles. He stares at it, wishing it'd grow bigger and swallow him up.

“Well, come on,” says the bookmaster, “you'll have to take off your shirt or I can't put this on and make the bruise better.” Nico can hear in his voice that Maunus is smiling. He's not sure why. He makes a small unhappy noise and hugs himself, not wanting Maunus to know how bad he is at fencing.

Nico can feel Maunus staring at him, and this time he hears concern in his voice. “Nico. Take off your shirt. If something bad happened to you, I need to see how bad it is.”

This time, Nico does as he's told, his movements slow and jerky. His bookmaster breathes in sharply as he sees.

“Kid, your whole _torso_ is black and blue, who _did_ this to you —”

Nico just stares at the floor. The small hole hasn't grown.

“Nico. I need to know. Who did this to you.” His tone is sharp and serious, this time, and Nico feels the words stumbling out of him. “Was my swordmaster,” he mumbles, “she says a little pain makes the lesson stick better, except it's _never_ just a little bit, and the lesson doesn't stick anyway because I'm so bad at fencing, and I know I need to get better because I'm a Ravenna, but it's just so _hard_ …” Nico starts crying, big heaving sobs, and Maunus scoots closer and hugs him gingerly. Nico leans into the hug, and so they sit for a while, Nico crying into Maunus' shirt as he glowers out the window.

* * *

Some days later, Nico is sitting alone in a windowsill, trying to read another of Maunus' fairytales, when he hears a voice. “Hey! Ravenna!” He looks up and sees Drakan, a noble kid around Erasmos' age, stomping toward him, black hair framing a face twisted in anger. Nico is a little scared as he asks the older boy what's wrong.

“My mom told me you sent your lackey to beg for a new fencing teacher! When the one you have now is the best one in the city! You're an ungrateful, spoiled little _brat_ is what's wrong!” Drakan's face is red with anger, and it's very close to Nico's — he'd back away if he could, but he's trapped in the windowsill, so he has no choice but to stumble through a response. “I'm — I didn't tell him to do that, Drakan, you shouldn't be mad at _me_ —" Nico pauses. “Wait, why does it matter to _you_?”

“Don't you _get_ it, stupid, some of us would do anything to get a  _tenth_ of the opportunities you were just _born_ with.” His voice is less furious, now, and more bitter. “Some of us have to _fight_ for that shit.”

“I thought your mother was a Draconis?"

“She's a woman, stupid, she's not exactly first in line for the throne. I'm so far down the inheritance ladder I don't even count as a Draconis myself. That's why my first name is Drakan, actually, she wanted me to have the name in some way, even if I can't have it in the way that counts.” Drakan sighs, and Nico feels almost sorry for him.

Then Nico has an idea. Maybe they can both get what they want. “I can… talk to my father maybe? Ask him, if I'm not using that teacher anymore, if she can teach you instead…” Drakan suddenly bursts out laughing, and Nico stops talking, too confused to continue.

“Oh, _Nicodemus_ ,” Drakan says, after he's got his breath back, “you didn't actually think your request had been _granted?_ That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard — I'll have to tell Erasmos this — his brother is an _idiot_ —” and so Drakan hurries away, still laughing under his breath, leaving Nico in the windowsill, his stomach in knots. He sits there for a while, hugging himself. He doesn't feel like reading anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

When Nico is fourteen, a Magdan delegation is going to visit Dunark. It's for a trade deal, his father explains, the Magdan Coast is full of the most beautiful gemstones, and if they were on good terms with Dunark some of those gemstones could be ours. Nico spends weeks wondering what the foreigners will be like, imagining how a land of gemstones would look.

And so of course that's what he's thinking about as he sits in the great hall a few days before the delegation's arrival, waiting for dinner to start and picking at the small embroidered ravens on his doublet, when his father enters, deep in conversation with the Army General. Nico does his best to look uninterested as he strains to pick out the words, curious but not wanting to attract his father's attention.

“…attacked a guard when he was out on his patrol…”

“…bad luck they did it today, the visitors…”

“…might not be a coincidence…might be hoping the Magdans will be sympathetic…”

“…think she will? The Magdans are very…”

The conversation stops abruptly as the hall door opens and a nineteen-year-old Erasmos enters. He says hello to his father and prattles on about how he defeated some fencing master today in a practice duel, and Ebenezer smiles and nods but is clearly preoccupied, so much that even Erasmos notices, in the end. “…Father? You're not really listening, is anything wrong?”

Ebenezer sighs. “I suppose I should tell you. You'll be Duke one day, after all, you need to practice the decisionmaking. So: Some Gelters attacked one of our men today. It's a clear provocation. What would you have us do?”

Nico has heard stories about what some of the guards do to the Gelters. Stories which are disturbingly common. It's not unlikely this was just self-defense.

Apparently Erasmos is less disturbed by the stories, because he simply responds, “I'd attack them back, of course, send a few soldiers in and show them who rules the duchy.” His brows furrow. “Or is there a reason we can't do that?”

_Yes, yes there is, you can't just kill random Gelters because one of them fought back —_

“Sadly, they know the swampland better than we do, so if our soldiers go in they'll just hide.”

 _That is not remotely —_ Nico takes a deep breath. Talking back to his father won't help.

A few moments later, Erasmos' brow unfurrows. “They must have houses, right?” Ebenezer nods, and Erasmos continues. “So if the swamp toads are too cowardly to face us, we throw a few torches at every house we can find. Either they come put it out, and we have our targets, or they don't, and they'll have to spend quite a while rebuilding. Either way, they'll know not to bother us again.” He grins. “And I think I'd lead the assault, so the cowards can see we aren't like them, hiding in dark corners like cockroaches.”

_Nononono you can't —_

A warm smile spreads on Ebenezer's face. “My son, you're a true Ravenna, and I'll hardly stand in the way of your bravery. I'll tell the captain to expect you next week at the sweep.”

And then Nico can't keep it in anymore. “No, that's not, that's not bravery, it's just _murder_ , they can't fight back and, and anyway it might've been self-defense, you've, you must've heard the guards bragging — we shouldn't kill them for, for that — ” Nico's voice peters out as his father glowers at him, his face red from fury. Nico sinks into his chair and he knows he shouldn't have said this, it was a bad idea, he shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't —

The slap reverberates through the room. “You do not. Talk back. To me.” Ebenezer's glare is icy. “I'd tell you to leave, but gods know you're weak enough already. _Eat._ ”

The meal is silent and awkward, and when it's over Nico flees to his room.

* * *

When the Magdans arrive, Nico looks on from the window in his tower bedroom as the whole retinue enters the courtyard. He watches the stablehands and housekeepers milling about like tiny ants on the ground as they take the guests' belongings to the guestrooms and the horses to the stables, and he watches as his father, a slower and more stately ant, walks up to the diplomats and welcomes them. One of them steps forwards and accepts a handshake. Under their traveling cloak, they're wearing a dress in the kind of brilliant blue only royalty can afford, so Nico concludes they must be the princess. He stares down at her, curious to catch a glimpse of her face before the big dinner. The princess never looks up, though, and then she enters the castle itself and leaves his view.

Half an hour later, Nico is once again waiting in the great hall, this time sitting at the table with his father and brother and wearing his finest doublet, the pale blue one embroidered with ravens. The embroidery itches, and he absentmindedly scratches his arm. His father snaps at him to sit still and look proper, and just then the doors open and the princess enters the room, flanked by four nobles. They sit down at the table, the princess choosing the seat next to Erasmos. She's really quite pretty, with long auburn hair and a heart-shaped face. She looks to be about 20, and her silver-brocaded bodice is cut low, edged with lace — Nico jerks his head away, blushing slightly, and turns his attention to the nobles' conversation instead.

“…Belsognia is readying their troops, there's no other explanation…”

“They could be ready in a month, and mercenaries won't scare them away…”

“I certainly hope Princess Adela's plan will work…”

At the mention of the princess, Nico turns his attention back to her, curious what plan she could have. She's sitting quite close to Erasmos, now, smiling the most beautiful smile in his direction as she listens raptly to whatever boring story he's telling. Her eyes are hazel, Nico notices.

“It sounds like you're quite the fighter, defeating the First Sword of Solark like that,” she says when Erasmos is finally done with his blow-by-blow description. He grins at the praise. “Of course, duels are highly artificial — real battles don't stop at first blood — but I can do real fighting too, in fact three days from now I'm leading a sweep of the Gelter colony out in the swamp to show the swamp toads how honourable people fight —”

“It won't be honourable,” Nico quietly interrupts. All eyes turn to him, and his father is staring daggers, and Nico is regretting that he ever opened his mouth — and then Adela asks, in a genuinely curious voice, “Why do you think that?”

“I —” Nico doesn't know where to start, at first, it's hard to think with his father glaring like that. After a deep breath, he stumblingly explains about the guards and the Gelters and how the soldiers are going to burn down a village just because one person fought back. For a moment, he can read concern on Adela's face, but then she switches back to her sugar-sweet smile and turns her attention back to Nico's brother. “You know, Erasmos,” she says sweetly, “at the Magdan Coast we hold that the most honourable thing a ruler can do is treat all their subjects fairly.” She's holding his hand, her thumb stroking the back of it. “If even your brother believes that story, then surely some of your subjects do too, and they'll think you dishonourable if you follow your original plan. And we don't want that…”

Ebenezer cuts in. “And what, pray tell, would you have us do instead? We need to show the swampfolk that actions have _consequences_ —”

“And we will, Ravenna, we will. A public and fair trial of the relevant Gelter would show everyone that you serve justice, and putting the guard on trial too will show them your justice extends to everyone.”

Ebenezer slowly nods, and Nico can hardly believe it. The princess was able to talk his father out of something, twisting him and Erasmos around her finger, making them do the right thing without them even noticing the manipulation and fighting back — Nico is lost in thought for the rest of the meal, eating automatically without even noticing what's on his plate.

* * *

For the next several weeks, Adela and her nobles spend a lot of time with Ebenezer and Erasmos, hammering out trade agreements and defense pacts, Nico joining them for meals but rarely having anything relevant to say. And if he sometimes finds his eyes drawn to Adela, well, if he can just be really discreet about it no one needs ever find out. Besides, she's leaving soon, he shouldn't get too attached.

Except she doesn't leave. A few days before the planned departure date, it is announced that Dunark and the Magdan Coast now form a defensive pact, and that said pact will be sealed by a marriage between Erasmos Ravenna, heir to the Duchy of Dunark, and Adela Turrinem, a princess of the Magdan Coast.

In hindsight, Nico recognizes the obviousness of it, but that doesn't stop him from feeling a knot in his stomach. He tries to ignore it and be happy for his brother and to stop _seeing_ Adela the way he does — but his eyes are constantly drawn to her, and he can't help but notice the way her eyes seem to change color depending on the light, the way she subtly steers conversations, the way the whole world seems brighter when she smiles. At some point he starts fantasizing about her when he's lying in his bed at night, and he knows it's wrong and she's engaged and she wouldn't want him anyway but he can't help it, she's just too beautiful, too perfect — and he's breathing heavily, his muscles tensing — and the next day he's ashamed of himself and the next night he does it all over again.


End file.
